Chapter 5
Five
F or ten days, they rode toward Aeris Academy.
Autumn painted the forest in fire. Crimson and burnt-orange canopies of leaves stretched endlessly above their small party.
Alaire inhaled deeply, savoring the woodsmoke and damp earth. The bite of the wind left her cheeks rosy, but it was one of the several hundred reminders she had pocketed away—a reminder that she’d made it out.
They traveled with two stoic fae guards, one leading while the other brought up the rear.
Alaire’s black mare trotted behind Professor Ross, hooves churning through mud slick from days of rain.
Their escorts were air wielders, like most fae in Cielore, able to redirect airflow to soften the brunt of the harsh winds pelting rain at them.
Each night, her body was sore and aching with exhaustion.
The thin bedroll Professor Ross provided was a luxury compared to Grimstone’s lumpy cot.
Yet sleep still managed to elude her. She should’ve been accustomed to the constant noise from Grimstone, but the forest sounded alive in a way she wasn’t used to.
Alaire lay awake imagining creatures with gnashing teeth, bodies of polished bone, and ligaments of swirling shadows.
When exhaustion finally claimed her, memories far more harrowing than any nightmare clawed at the edges of her mind.
Fear. Shame. Anger. She could still taste the blood that had coated her tongue to keep from screaming.
It was the second time the guards had caught her—this time for stealing a pair of shoes and crusty loaf of bread.
The guard had cut her tunic with a sword, exposing her back to the crowd. A message to those who dared defy their laws. Twenty-four lashes: twelve for each item she’d stolen. They tied her to a post in the human district’s central square.
She bit the inside of her cheek at the beginning, but by the tenth lash, she couldn’t keep the screams of agony inside as vicious pain radiated through her.
Afterward, she’d crawled into a dark alley, collapsing on top of a pile of discarded boxes. Lying on her stomach, back shredded and torn, Alaire had welcomed death then—certain infection would set in, or she’d bleed out, all while barely conscious. But for whatever reason, she hadn’t.
Alaire jerked awake. Sweat clung to her neck. It was still dark. Drawing her knees to her chest, she pressed her forehead against them, trying to steady her breath.
She tried to remind herself that she was safe now. But safety was an illusion for humans; danger lurked around every corner, simply because of the shape of their ears.
Once she’d healed, she tracked down the guard who’d debased her and left her like a discarded animal. She’d waited until he was alone, her steps silent and precise, a shadow shaped by Blake’s lessons. Then took her time repaying him, slowly, for the pain he’d savored inflicting on her.
Alaire pushed the memory away. That part of her life—the girl from the gutters who’d done unspeakable things to survive—needed to stay buried.
However, no matter how desperately she tried to bury that day, the scars beneath her tunic lingered, a reminder that some wounds never really faded.
The guards had become lulled by the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ canter against the packed earth: the one leading was slouched in his saddle, while the rear guard’s reins hung slack in his hands.
Not Alaire. She sat straight-backed, eyes cataloging every detail of the changing landscape. The scent of brine and salt from the North Sea mingled with yesterday’s rain.
She scrutinized Professor Ross’s back. Already, she was entering Aeris Academy at a disadvantage. She was determined to glean any information she could. So far, he’d deflected every attempt she’d made to extract anything useful.
“Something on your mind?” Professor Ross’s voice was brittle, like dried leaves beneath boots.
“Are you planning on letting me walk into this place blind? Or will I have to ask you several hundred times only to receive another vague response?” Alaire pulled the reins on her mare until she was side by side with the professor.
“People share more when left to fill the silence themselves.”
Time for another tactic.
“Is it true that fae from all seven houses attend Aeris Academy?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Professor Ross kept his eyes on the dirt road ahead. “Well, six. One of the houses perished some years ago.”
Even she had heard about the fall of House Ashfyre.
She studied his profile.
“Will there be fae at the academy bonded to Celestial Familiars?”
He finally glanced her way, his eyes gleaming as if she’d finally asked the right question. “Celestial Familiars are a cornerstone of our magic system and the heart of the legend that has shaped Elithian for centuries.”
Alaire’s interest was piqued. The celestials were not just stories; they were Elithian legend.
Professor Ross clucked his tongue, urging his horse into a trot. “Before the mountains rose and the sea churned, the world was formed from the essence of two primordial beings—one of light and one of darkness.”
“Lysia and Umbra.” Alaire knew that part. The creation story was recited often at the orphanage.
“Together, they created aether. The fabric of life.”
“Aether,” Alaire repeated from memory, “is the source of all magic.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Celestial Familiars each embody an element bound by aether. When they descended to Elithian, they bonded with fae bloodlines aligned to their nature.”
“And these same bloodlines now hold all the power while others bleed for scraps.” She dug her calves into the horse to keep from falling as they crossed a patch of rough terrain.
“Celestials are more than just creatures. They help maintain the balance and are protectors of the realm. Those bonded to them serve as anchors, keeping the elements in harmony.”
“Right, because nothing says ‘protectors of the realm’ like sipping mead on your throne, preening in luxury. Truly the unsung heroes,” Alaire sneered. She couldn’t hold back the bitterness that coated her tongue.
Elithian was ruled by an oligarchy known as the Consortium. Its seven seats were occupied by a Premiere Lord or Lady—the head of each magical house and ruler of their territory.
Alaire knew she should show respect to the Premiere Lords and Ladies and their celestials, but respect, she’d always believed, was not freely given—it was earned.
“You know little of what you speak.” Professor Ross’s tone was sharp, the first crack in his mild demeanor.
“During the previous wars with the vampires, those royals you so easily criticize sacrificed countless lives to protect the balance you mock. Had they not, the vampires would have succeeded in dragging Elithian—and all within it—into eternal night.”
Alaire bit the inside of her cheek, feeling like a chastised little girl.
Professor Ross ran a hand absentmindedly through his horse’s mane.
“It’s understandable that you hold the prejudices you do.
No one can fault you for that. But there’s still so much you don’t know.
The society the Consortium has established is far from perfect, but not all deserve your tongue-lashing.
Even without their leader, the vampires remain the greatest threat humans and fae collectively face. ”
Alaire’s mind raced. Magic, Celestial Familiars, ancient bloodlines, vampires. They had always felt so distant. All her energy had been focused on where she’d find her next meal or what she could offer in exchange for a warm place to sleep.
Now, her focus would have to shift to a different kind of survival: navigating a world of power, secrets, and deadly stakes where she didn’t know the rules. A single misstep could cost her everything.
“It’s why Aeris Academy is so important—to teach those with magical abilities to harness and control their powers. It plays a crucial role in shaping Elithian’s future and protecting the balance nature demands,” Professor Ross continued.
And yet again, they arrived at the crux of the problem. Alaire’s fingers tightened around the reins.
“I don’t have magic. Nor a celestial. What’s the real reason you’ve dragged me across Cielore to an academy filled with fae who will despise me on sight?”
She could feel the professor’s eyes assessing her, but she kept her gaze fixed ahead. Alaire preferred to play a game where she could see all the cards—and stack the deck in her favor.
“Not all power lies in bloodlines or magic.”
“Try telling the Consortium that,” Alaire retorted.
“Aether is everywhere, in all things. Sometimes, you must trust the path laid before you.” His knuckles turned white on the reins. “The plight and resiliency of humans—their ability to endure and survive despite their circumstances—is a strength.”
“Strength in survival?” Alaire snorted. “We’re forced to demonstrate strength when the struggle is built into a system that aims to keep us shackled. Chains don’t loosen just because you learn to live with them.”
“True enough. But sometimes, learning to live with chains teaches you exactly how to break them.”
“No. The chains should never exist in the first place.” Her shoulders stiffened as she narrowed her eyes at the professor.
He was fae. He’d never understand.
“But you keep refusing to answer my question—how could a girl from the slums of Starling Gate have something to offer the crème de la crème of Elithian’s magical nobility? Keeping me in the dark only hinders my odds at this place.”
“Our deal was your freedom in exchange for your attendance. Patience, Alaire. Some answers carry a weight you’re not ready to bear.” His gaze narrowed on her fists, clenching and unclenching the smooth leather.
With a swift kick, Professor Ross directed his horse into a smooth canter, leaving Alaire alone beneath the canopy of golden leaves. Once again, bereft of what awaited her at the academy.
However, it was one step closer to a future that was her own. And she would find the answers in time, even if she had to uncover them herself.